


Changed

by myth_taken



Category: Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 01:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myth_taken/pseuds/myth_taken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-musical sad Glinda. Sad Elphaba as an extra bonus. Considerable book influence. Inspired by comments on GretchenMaurice's "Stay Gold."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GretchenMaurice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenMaurice/gifts).



Glinda searched for Elphaba everywhere for the first week. She knew the Witch was gone, had seen her melt, but... Elphaba had not always been the Witch. Once, long ago, she had been one of just two best friends, sharing one wonderful one short life with Glinda. 

But that life had been too short for Elphaba, and too long for Glinda, and overall Glinda figured it averaged out to respectable lengths for the both of them. Elphaba had died, and Glinda had had the privilege of living years after, going about her duties as Glinda the Good.

Privately, she called herself Glinda the Not Good Enough. 

She settled down eventually, married some man, wishing he was Fiyero, but really wishing he was Elphaba. 

And the whole time she searched. She felt like a part of her soul had gone missing, and it was her job to find it; Elphaba was gone, and it was Glinda's job to find her. She told herself she had given up after a year or so, but she never really did. She was always looking out for Elphaba.

Once, she thought she really had seen her friend. She was at a ceremony in the Emerald City, the ceremony marking the anniversary of the death of the Wicked Witch of the West, in fact, and she saw a thick black braid above a tattered black dress in the crowd. Her breath had hitched in the middle of her speech; she croaked a quiet, "Elphie?"

And the braided woman turned around, too, as if she had known the name, but her skin had been as white as Glinda's.

\--

Elphaba would never forgive herself. She would never forgive Fiyero, either, but he was justified in wanting to flee. Elphaba should never have joined him.

She knew she was about to die. She hadn't wanted to die. But she hadn't wanted to live like this, either; she could never see Glinda again, and she could never  _apologize._

She had berated herself, sure, and Fiyero had watched, helpless, until she turned to berating him, but, sooner or later, she realized there was no use. She had made her choice. There was no turning back. She couldn't risk Glinda's status like that, and, really, that was what it had come down to: Glinda wanted status and fame, and Elphaba regarded both with a healthy disdain.

Years later, though, she realized she had to see how Glinda was doing. She had to check up, to make sure Glinda had achieved her goal. If she hadn't, Elphaba would take her away; if she had, Elphaba had watched from afar. It was Fiyero who found the pigments; it was Elphaba who ground them up, mixed them with oil, and coated her face and neck. She donned her old long-sleeved black dress, and Fiyero gave her his own gloves. The outfit was topped off with crumbling leather boots they had found in an old house in the Vinkan woods; the boots would hide Elphaba's ankles, assuming they held together.

Fiyero waved goodbye from the desert as Elphaba mounted her broom and flew into Oz proper. She waved back until she couldn't see him anymore, and then all her thoughts were on Glinda.

Glinda had been such a pleasant surprise for Elphaba. After she decided Elphaba was worth looking at, she had been kind in the only way she knew how, and then she had learned a few other ways. Elphaba had been much the same, really; they had both been caught up in prejudices, and, after their golden years together, their prejudices had returned full force. Elphaba was really hurtling towards a relic of the past, but she pretended she was hurtling towards a pleasant future. Maybe she would see Glinda, hug her, even a kiss, if she was lucky... 

But that was silly. On the one day Elphaba would have loved green skin, she was deprived of this identifying trait. She had the braid, she had the dress, but she did not have the skin, and without the skin, none of her fantasies would come to past. Which was for the better. Wasn't it?

She landed behind a building, propped her broom up against the edge, and walked the short distance into the main part of the city. She had scheduled her arrival for the anniversary of her own faked death, knowing that this would be an important day for Glinda.

She heard Glinda's voice and stopped, knowing that this was almost all she could bear. How would she be able to see Glinda's face? 

Once she got there, she only looked at Glinda's face for a moment before turning around. She couldn't do it. She couldn't see it. 

She heard Glinda stop speaking, and her magically-enhanced voice was full of emotion when she spoke next. 

"Elphie?"

Elphaba couldn't help it, she turned around, but that was what ruined her; Glinda bowed her head in sorrow when she saw Elphaba's skin, and then she took a deep breath and continued with her speech as if nothing had happened. Elphaba ran away as her tears erased the pigment on her skin.

Elphaba cried herself to sleep that night, surrounded by Fiyero's warm embrace.

\--

Glinda was in prison. It was the end of her career, she knew; she had made just the wrong people angry. She had spoken out, for once, and it had ended better for her than it had for Elphaba, but not by much. 

It was the end of her life, too. She had felt herself growing frail over the last few years. Her husband had finally died, and perhaps it was about time for her to die, too. She could finally join Elphaba...

As if her thoughts had called the winds to action, Glinda heard a bang as the door to her cell opened. She had been looking out the window, but now she slowly rotated her body to see a devilish green smile underneath a pointed hat.

Glinda stared for a moment. "You're not dead."

"Funnily enough, dear old Boq told me the same thing yesterday."

"You went to see Boq before me?"

"Well, you were going to take some time to break out. Boq was just kind of there. And it  _is_ my fault he's made of tin."

Glinda laughed weakly as she pushed herself up, tottering over to hug Elphaba.

"Those heels really did ruin your gait," Elphaba said. "I warned you." 

Glinda pulled herself away. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"

"You were happy." Elphaba shrugged. Her face was wrinkled now, but she seemed as strong as ever. She had aged far better than Glinda had.

"I was putting up a good pretense."

"You had what you wanted. I had... well, I had my life, and I had Fiyero. I guess that's what I wanted."

"Oh, Elphie," Glinda sighed. "Don't you know? All I ever wanted was you."

\--

Glinda flew back to Elphaba's hideout that night. Fiyero was long dead, so they lit a fire in his honor and talked about times past. 

At the end of the night, they fell asleep in the same room for the first time in fifty years.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't 100% know what this is. I kind of like it, though. Also, it's been a while since I've seen the musical, so I don't really remember the ending as well as I should.


End file.
